


Tatia

by Zagzagael



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zagzagael/pseuds/Zagzagael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus and Elijah and Tatia</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tatia

Before.

Before, he was a naïf. But then, so was Elijah. Protected and kept innocent by a mother frightened of the dark. The night, the shadowed woods, the secrets of the heart, death. Yet, when had this fear taken root and bloomed its blooded rose inside of her? She was a woman who had accepted temptation, lain with the enemy, created a life. But none knew that. Not then. It would be revealed. All dark things eventually have a light shed on them and all illuminated things eventually are cast in shadow.

But, before.

There was a darkness bred of ignorance. Yet such a curiosity, such a desire, driving them both towards the girl, and her hidden secret. In the nighttime of their sleeping, they would reach for one another, wrapped in hides and coarse linen. Comfort and release and a small exquisite pleasure found in the grasp of one another’s fists. Later, panting and sweating, salty palms held over grinning mouths to encourage silence, they would press their bodies together and sleep.

The girl changed this. Experienced and worldly. In ways that they decidedly were not. The mother recognized the woman in the girl and quaked. And forbade. And thus the fruit was proffered and its sweet flesh called to both of them. They bit deeply into the blushed skin and swallowed.

They had her together, one night, a long arcing space of time that seemed to stretch them both to limits heretofore unknown to them, to their bodies, their minds, and hearts. She allowed them to enter her surroundings, crawl beneath the skins of animals slaughtered, rest upon the pallet of pine needles. The child slept in a cradle crafted from ash.

Here and here and just here she whispered and they rose to her commands and there and there, just there they bent to her and feasted on her flesh. Worshiped at the shrine, the juncture of her thighs, the swelling of her breast, the bending of her throat, the trembling of her eyelids. And she brought their seeking hands together and entwined their fingers and her small hands coaxed their heads towards one another and for the first time in their lives their mouths met and they kissed and the masculine moans harmonized in deep-throated trillings that pushed them to an edge and over. And she caught them in her arms and brought their music to a crescendo.

The older one wept, the younger one immolated.

The next night, they drank from goblets brought to them by the mother and the father. Their tunics were blood-soaked, their skin stained the darkest red. Innocent to the betrayal that had been done them. Hungry for the girl again in ways that would haunt them both for a thousand years. To come.


End file.
